


Render

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 05:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10181708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Link sees Volga out of armour and promptly gets down to business.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The one good thing about housing a dangerous fire dragon within the castle keep is that there’s finally someone decent to train with. Link always feels guilty asking fellow soldiers—what if he should accidentally harm them? And it feels strange to spar with the princess, especially with her right hand woman watching him like a hawk. But it seems equally questionable to request someone so new to their team, so he waits until the dead of night to go—at least, for once, Proxi isn’t hovering over him. 

He finds Volga’s door easily enough—it’s far from the others, lest this tentative alliance prove premature—and it already has char marks around the edges, ash encrusted along the bottom, black remains scattered below. It gives Link pause, but not enough to turn back. He’s faced worse than this one dragon, whom he’s already bested twice, though Volga now insists that he ‘went easy’ on Link, for reasons he has yet to name. Link sucks in a breath and knocks, hoping belatedly that he won’t be disturbing Volga’s sleep, and that such a thing wouldn’t upset their delicate coalition.

To his relief, a muffled, deep voice rumbles through the wood, “Come in.” So Link twists the handle and pushes it open, slipping into the dark, fire-lit room.

The three candles atop the desk, table, and nightstand are just enough to cast a yellow-orange glow across the tall man that stands by the bed, stripped down to only fabric. It takes Link a second to realize that it even _is_ Volga, because Link’s never seen him outside his helmet, let alone outside his armour. The man that stands before Link is shrouded only in form-fitting black cloth, sucked firm against every supple line and muscle. Volga’s eyes are painted black, dipped in points down his cheeks, but the irises within them are finally visible, bright as flame, and in place of the imitation dragon skull is only ragged blond hair. Without the usual mass of metal, he looks almost _human_.

He looks _handsome_. Link doesn’t realize he’s staring until Volga chuckles, “Well, boy? Are you going to come in?” He crosses his thick arms across his broad chest while he says it, and the shift splays the candlelight across a new set of muscles. Link can feel his throat drying. He forgets, for a moment, what he came for, and mindlessly reaches back to shut the door behind him. It’s been so long since he saw _anyone_ like this, had any stirrings of attraction...

But he’s still a soldier, and he tries to rein it in, sucks in a breath and steels himself over, forcibly wrenching his gaze to Volga’s eyes. The blackness around them makes them particularly piercing. Link’s never been one for words, but he can feel what few he has falling away. Volga asks in a low purr, “Do you like what you see?”

Link says nothing. He tries to sharpen his gaze but doesn’t know if he’s been effective. He just hopes he isn’t blushing. Volga is built like an Adonis, the perfect warrior, chiseled to pure perfection, and he looks as though he knows it. He unfurls a set of long fingers, bare flesh instead of a dragon’s claw, and crooks one, cooing, “Come closer, then, and get a better look.”

It’s foolish to step forward. Link knows that. He left his sword in the training yard, the _master sword_ safe in his quarters, as a show of good faith. Now he wonders if that was wise. But the possible reward seems greater than the risk, and he finds himself stepping forward. He tries to walk with pride, with certainty, but the minute he’s within reach, Volga jerks in with unnatural speed and locks tight around Link’s collar. Link splutters, pulled to the toes of his boots, and grabs at Volga’s forearm, but he’s already been spun and shoved up against the wall, flattened into it a second later; Volga’s hard body surges into his, and Volga’s mouth smashes against Link’s lips.

Link makes a startled noise of surprise, stifled in close proximity, and his open mouth seems the only invitation Volga needs—a smoldering tongue slides between Link’s lips, twisting around his own and filling him up. It’s large, long, thick, and sizzling hot, almost painful to touch, but that intensity gives Link a spark of _pleasure_ that snakes all down his spine. His hands freeze on Volga’s wrists, body pausing as he takes it in, takes _Volga_ in, and Volga tilts to kiss him harder.

It’s bruising, wild, and the hottest thing Link’s ever felt in more ways than one. When Volga finally wrenches away, Link’s breathless and dizzy, left reeling. One of Volga’s knees shifts between his thighs, holding him in place against the wall, and Link only spreads wider for it. He’s already grown hard, and rubbing against Volga makes it worse—he can’t stop himself from rubbing _more_ ; he finds himself shamefully humping Volga’s leg as best he can with what little room he has. Volga nuzzles into Link’s neck to force his head aside, scraping barely-blunt teeth along his throat and hissing, “I’ve wanted this for some time, little warrior. I’m pleased you think me so stunning, for I find you _beautiful_. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so distracted with your pretty face, the dark sorceress may have had a different outcome...”

Link refuses to believe that’s why he won. But at the same time, the thought of dazzling Volga from the beginning is bizarrely satisfying. Volga nips at his pointed ear and purrs, “ _Such_ a pretty thing, my chosen hero... it’s no wonder so many flock to your side...”

They flock to Princess Zelda. But Link has no coherency left to say it; one of Volga’s hands slithers around his back and down his spine, then lifts his tunic and tests the waistband of his trousers. Link’s hands diver to Volga’s broad shoulders, and then Volga’s slipped beneath his trousers and cupped his ass, squeezing tightly across both cheeks. Link grits his teeth together, grunting in lieu of a moan. He’s sure Volga will wrack that out of him, but he’s _trying_ to be strong. He had no idea dragons, of all things, could be so thoroughly seductive.

Volga, as fast as he moves, is good with his hands. He kneads Link’s rear a few times, then presses one long digit between his crack, tracing slowly down to find his hole. Link clutches harder and emits another noise, but he does nothing to stop Volga’s attentions. Dry, Volga rubs at Link’s hole, and the other hand comes to cup his face, tilting him up for another scorching kiss. 

Into this one, Volga seems to breathe sheer _fire_ , and Link shivers with the sudden broiling heat that races across his skin. It’s too much, too severe, but he can’t bring himself to push away, even as he feels the sweat bubbling along every surface. By the time Volga pulls away again, Link’s panting for breath and drenched. Even with so little space between them, it’s easy to see Volga’s pleased smirk in the flickering light. He runs his finger through the sweat that’s gathered along Link’s ass and uses it to push at Link’s hole, while Link chokes and tries not to cry out any more than he already has. He tries to relax, even though he wants to tense, and then Volga’s pushes passed his ring of muscles and into his channel. The intrusion is sudden, strange, and he shudders at it, his own fingers straying up to twist in Volga’s hair. It’s surprisingly soft. Volga bends closer to allow it and sinks the single digit slowly deeper, purring lewdly, “How tight you are, my warrior. I wonder if you could even fit my cock inside you... I’ll have to stretch you plenty beforehand, I see. I’ll have to teach you with many rounds how to take such enormity...”

Link doesn’t recall ever saying a word about wanting _Volga’s cock inside him_ , but he hardly wants to protest. It’s all he can do to think straight with a single finger spearing him open. It finally squirms knuckle-deep, and then withdraws, only to push in again; Link lifts on the toes of his boots as Volga works him, only to fall with each caress. He feels both foolish and hopelessly aroused. He bucks against Volga without meaning to, and he can feel the sizable lump waiting for him, certainly bigger than his own, though he never thought himself particularly small. He wonders what it would feel like to be _in Volga_ , but that’s obviously a conversation for another night. Volga pulls out to the tip, only to push in a second finger, and then he’s scissoring Link open in steady, maddening movements that have Link shaking and desperate. 

He tugs at Volga’s hair and opens his mouth, and he’s rewarded for it with more tongue. Volga fills his entire mouth with it and shoves him back into the wall, grinding him hard against the stone, but the pressure’s just what Link wants. It feels so strangely _good_ to be stretched, to be filled, and then Volga strokes a certain spot, and Link comes alive with pleasure. He cries out into Volga’s mouth and bucks forward harder, again, then again, as Volga pistons brutally into that one spot over and over, overwhelming Link with the sensation—Volga fucking his mouth with tongue and his ass with fingers and grinding a massive bulge into his trapped cock, and he wishes he’d thought to shed his clothes for this; he still has his heavy armour and can barely breathe, and Volga uses the other hand to trace down Link’s body and cup his cock, and it’s all Link can take—he bursts with a feral roar and his fingers fisting in Volga’s hair, body going tense—

He explodes, then, and exists in that, in headless bliss, until breathing becomes too much of a chore.

Then he’s coming down, haggard and overrun, while Volga pulls back with a pristine little chuckle. He’s utterly unruffled. He drags his fingers out of Link to leave a gaping hole, and Link feels horribly _empty_ for it. Volga puffs a little cloud of smoke across Link’s face, and Link shivers worse than ever. 

Volga croons, “Will you stay the night?”

And Link moans for an answer, weakly nodding.


End file.
